


The First Five Times

by 9crimes



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Kink, Oliver Queen Being an Asshole, Sex, and then they bang, felicity smoak being flawless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9crimes/pseuds/9crimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver is still holding her wrists, rubbing his thumb over her pulse. It should be odd, but it's not. He has a thing about her pulse. She guesses she's had enough close calls by now that he gets some type of comfort from it. Regardless, she's used to it enough to be able to function (she'll never really be used to it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I don't love you (but I always will)

**Author's Note:**

> heeeeeey so this is my first oliver/felicity fic...I wrote it about 3 months ago. It's set at some point in the future, a little less than a year after 2x09 I'd say. Ignores canon past 2x09.

The first time they fuck is after her first date with Paul Whitman.

Paul is a business man. He worked on a deal with Oliver and since she’s Oliver’s _Executive Assistant_ (which, ok, 10 months later and she’s still not as honored by that job title as she pretends to be) she spent a fair amount of time with him.

He asked her out on his last day working with Oliver.

Her first instinct was to say no because, well…he’s a _business man_. And his name is _Paul._ She never really pictured herself dating a Paul.

But on the other hand, he’s so damn nice she swears birds dress him in his Armani every morning. He has a great smile. He’s smart.

He _likes_ her (and he’s not afraid to admit it, to her or to himself, and isn’t that a novel idea).

Honestly he’s kind of an amazing guy and she had a kind of amazing time with him.

Oliver doesn’t find the situation quite so _amazing._

When Felicity shows up at the lair after midnight, planning on checking in on some surveillance she had set up earlier that day then getting the hell home, she’s met with Oliver’s glare-y, sullen face in _her_ computer chair.

‘How was your _date_?’ He spits the word ‘date’ out with so much venom she actually stops in her tracks and looks at him quizzically.

‘um, it was very…date-like. Why exactly are you in my chair? Shouldn’t you be throwing sticks around or hanging from the ceiling or something’ the smile he gives her has to be the least genuine smile in the history of smiling.

‘Aw come on Felicity. Give me all the details. I’m dying to know, really’ He’s standing up now and she’s momentarily distracted by the way he’s standing. He’s tense all over, muscles in his arms and chest clearly showing through his thin grey pullover. The veins in his neck and forehead are bulging and she’s glad his bow is nowhere in sight. She’s seen him like this before, many times actually. But his looks and scathing tone have never, not once, been directed at her.

‘ooooook…look, Oliver, I’m not sure exactly what happened tonight and I’m really sorry if I missed something big. I’m just gonna take my tablet and check everything out from home. You seem like you need…some time alone. And maybe a nice bubble bath?’ he doesn’t crack a smile. ‘no? Bubble baths are like _the_ single most relaxing thing ever so…your loss. Suit yourself…enjoy your…whatever it is you’re doing’ she shrugs, not wanting to let whatever it is that Oliver is stewing about ruin the first date she’s had in…months.

She’s halfway up the stairs when she hears his voice call out to her.

‘Felicity…’ when she looks back at him she can see the tension in his body is still very much there but his voice is soft and as close to an apology as she’ll get.

‘Oliver’ she deadpans.

‘don’t worry about it. You need to be alone, I get it. I should have checked with you or Digg before just showing up, hey where’s Digg anyway  - ‘

He’s on the step below her now, still towering over her despite the advantage the step gives her. He puts a hand on her shoulder, slowly, deliberately, and she’s so shocked by the sudden contact she forgets what she was saying and why she was saying it.

‘please…don’t. You don’t need to apologize for anything. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me…’

His hands skate down her arms as he’s speaking. He’s holding her wrists now and she’s pretty sure she hasn’t breathed since he first touched her and that _really_ sucks because she’s been _working_ on that. She had made it her number one priority to always breathe around Oliver Queen, especially when in physical contact with him. Or when he was working out. Shirtless. Or when they made eye contact. _Anyway_ she had been doing so good lately and look at her now.

‘Did you kiss him?’

The question lingers for several moments. He’s not even looking at her, but when he does raise his head to look at her, his whole demeanor has changed. He is unreadable and she can’t stand when he does that.

‘No’. As soon as she says it she mentally kicks herself. That’s not how she was supposed to respond. She was supposed to go off on him about how it was none of his business and maybe she did what’s it to him?

But honestly she’s never been one to play those games. And she’s not stupid. She’s gathered over the last few minutes that Oliver is dealing with some type of jealousy over her date with Paul. She’s not going to pretend she hasn’t had moments exactly like this whenever Oliver is fucking someone. She’s not in over her head enough to mistake Oliver’s jealousy for real romantic feelings though. She gets it. They’ve developed an odd, probably unhealthy, attachment and it gets confusing when other people get involved.

The thought flickers through her mind that she knew exactly what she was doing coming here after her date, that she knew exactly what would happen, and she did it anyway. She can’t be mad at him for doing exactly what she knew he would do.

She’s brought out of her thoughts when she feels Oliver’s thumb tracing over her left wrist. It should be odd, but it’s not. He has a thing about her pulse. She guesses she’s had enough close calls by now that he gets some type of comfort from it. Regardless, she’s used to it enough to be able to function (she’ll never really be used to it)

When he lifts her wrist to his lips, though…that, she is not even half way used to or prepared for. That one action sends a volt through her that she’s experienced maybe once before(that first time he pushed her hair away from her face…she was blushing for days).

She finds herself swaying towards him and _no no bad what are you doing_.

His body is buzzing with _something_ but she’s not so far gone that she assumes it’s because of her.

‘Oliver…what happened tonight?’

He drops her wrist and starts walking down the stairs at that and she hates that she already misses his touch.

He’s silent for about a full minute and she can tell he’s debating whether he really wants to tell her.

‘I was too late. Digg got the intel as fast as he could but by the time I got there…it wasn’t fast enough’

It was starting to come together. She had no doubt she could have gotten the information he needed in time for him to do whatever it was he needed to do. The reason she had chosen that night for her date was precisely because she knew their mission that night only required her to do things she could have done in her sleep. So she let Digg take over her computer and told the boys she’d see them later. It never occurred to her that a routine mission would fail just because she wasn’t there.

Apparently she was wrong.

‘Did anyone…’ it was still hard for her to acknowledge the life and death matter of most of their missions.

‘Yes’

‘Oh my god…Oliver, I’m so sorry, you should have called me, I would have left…why didn’t Digg call me?’

‘Because I shouldn’t need you this much Felicity!’ His voice was deeper than she’d heard it before, dangerously close to his disguised ‘Hood’ voice.

‘Goddamnit! I used to do this _alone_ , I didn’t need anyone! Then you…happened. And now I can’t even do a simple drop-in without your help’.

She had been walking towards him as he was speaking and when he was done she put a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face her.

‘Oliver. That’s not true. Tonight…was a fluke. You and Digg were unprepared, but I _know_ it’s not because you were incompetent. It’s like you told me before, this is the thing about what we do. Sometimes we don’t win’

‘It’s not just that Felicity. It’s… I was thinking about _you_. I was…distracted’.

He lets out a bitter laugh ‘I was jealous’.

And she stops breathing.

They’ve never come close to admitting anything like this, never even hinted at is (using words, at least). And she’s slightly suspicious that he decided to go there AFTER she’s met a nice guy she likes and had a great time with…

It’s like he can hear her thoughts.

Suddenly his arms are around her waist and she’s being lifted up and she’s sitting on her desk, dress rucked up around her waist and Oliver, huge, imposing ( _gorgeous)_ Oliver is standing between her legs. His fingers find her wrists again, except this time he crosses one over the other, holding them down behind her on the desk. The position they’re in is… _precarious._ With her arms being held down behind her back, her chest is pushed out more than usual and her dress is more low-cut than usual, because, oh yea she just got back from a _date._ A date with someone most definitely not the huge, imposing, gorgeous man currently standing inches away from her…everything.

The hand that’s not holding her wrists behind her back traces from her neck down to the apex of her thighs and _oh my god_ she’s not sure she’ll make it through this if just a simple touch affects her like she’s currently being…affected.

‘You’re fucking wet’ he growls in a suspiciously accusatory voice.

‘yea well whose fault is that!’ she snaps immediately. That brings a smile to his face…if his earlier smile was the least genuine smile in the history of smiling then this one is the most…lascivious smile in the history of smiling.

They don’t talk again for the next 20 minutes (well not in full sentences anyways).

It’s intense. _Oliver_ is intense.

 She can’t even count how many fantasies she’s had about what he’d be like… _sexually._ She always imagined he’d be intense.The thing is, she never had a fantasy about actually being with Oliver. Her fantasies are always of Oliver with a faceless girl.  So to actually experience it…definitely lived up to everything she’d ever imagined sex could be, every dirty novel she’s ever read.

Felicity’s not unexperienced with sex, per say, she’s just never had sex like this before.

No one has ever _taken control_ like Oliver. It makes sense that Oliver is…dominant, considering his personality and control issues. She never thought she’d be into that type of thing but…

She liked it.

A lot.

She liked it when he held her wrists behind her back as he touched her _all over_ and then eventually got on his knees in front of her and feasted on her like he hadn’t eaten for months.

She liked how he told her what he wanted her to do (‘look at me’ ‘turn around’ ‘tell me what you want’ that last one was her favorite. He did everything she said she wanted).

She liked it when he stood back and unbuckled his belt, staring her down head to toe.

She liked it when he told her to touch herself, make herself come, told her he wasn’t going to fuck her until she did.

She liked watching him lean against the back wall of the foundry casually jerking himself off as he watched her touch herself for him.

But she _really_ liked the way he slowly walked back over to her after she had made herself come, the way he so confidently and deliberately pulled her hips to the edge of the desk, the way he slowly eased himself in her as if he was savoring every moment (she sure as hell was).

The way his fingers dug into her hips right before he started thrusting.

The way he kept eye contact with her the entire time he was inside her (at one point she closed her eyes and her head lulled back. He instantly grabbed her by the hair, forcing her eyes back to his. After that he pulled her even closer and thrust inside her so deep she couldn’t tell where her body stopped and his began, staying there for what seemed like minutes but was probably only a few seconds. ‘I want to see you, all of you, every second I’m inside you. Don’t look away from me again, understand?’. All she could do was nod).

She liked the way he didn’t miss a beat when she came around his cock. Sweat ran down his face as he kept thrusting in and out while she spasmed around him. ‘it’s too much, omigodoliverican’t’ she had chanted over and over. He simply dug his fingers into her hips again, put his forehead against hers and whispered ‘Fuck me you’re beautiful’.

Not 5 seconds later he was coming. She had a mini internal freak out because he was still inside her, but then she didn’t feel anything and realized he must have at some point put a condom on without her noticing.

‘Oh my god THANK YOU for the whole condom thing, wow you must think I’m a huge slut I mean I didn’t even ask you to put a condom on! I mean I guess the fact that I just let you do unspeakable things to my body could also be a sign of the whole huge slut thing…but I think not even remembering a condom is more slutty. But on the other hand…’ she was rambling. There was a huge neon ‘STOP’ sign flashing in her head but in typical Felicity Smoak fashion she just.kept.talking.

Then he kissed her for the first time.

It was a surprisingly sweet kiss. She has a vague thought about how backwards this all is, the kissing after the sex, the fact that Oliver didn’t give any indication he was interested in her until after she finally met someone else who wanted her…

But those things weren’t what she wanted to think about when Oliver was kissing her.

So instead she thought about how his lips were chapped.

She thought about how as sweet as the kiss was there was still something about how Oliver was holding her neck, how his other hand traveled down her body like he owned it.

She thought about how much she liked that.

And then his hand found her wrist again and his thumb started rubbing the familiar circles around her pulse.

She’s not sure she’ll ever forget that moment (and she can just see her future self desperately trying to forget). In that moment she realized how in over her head she really was here. She had just had the most intense, crazy, _amazing_ sexual experience of her life with this gorgeous, rich, crime fighting, damaged, beautiful disaster of a man. He had saved her life more than once and she had saved his too.

Things like this didn’t happen in _anyone’s_ real life, much less Felicity Smaok’s.

But here she was.

Naked, arms around naked Oliver Queen, his thumb feeling the pulse on her wrist and his lips kissing the pulse on her neck.

It’s too much. What she’s feeling…it’s too much. This could go so wrong in so many ways that she doesn’t care to think about right now.

So she decides to take it for what it is. Oliver is perfect for her, sexually. He knows just what to do to make her go insane with pleasure, but he never took it too far. She’s never been with someone who could take her to the places Oliver just did. So she’ll focus on that. Just sex.

Oliver’s lips still and he drops her wrist.

‘What was that?’ he asks gruffly.

Oh shit. She said that last part out loud.

‘Oh um, you weren’t supposed to hear that. But you did. So I will now explain. I guess that’s my only option here’. He just stared at her, as he had done so many times before, waiting patiently for her to get to her point.

‘Just sex, right? I mean I assume that’s what you want this to be too. But even if you don’t I think…I think it’s the best option. I mean we have a lot going on….here. What with the secretary thing and the Arrow thing and just…there’s no reason to make this more complicated than it has to be, right?’ His brow raises quizzically at that.

‘Explain’ she blushes at the command. Now that she knows how… _commanding_ he is naked she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to disassociate that from his general commanding personality as her boss.

‘Well I mean the sex was…really good. Clearly we’re sexually compatible. There’s no reason to pretend that’s not true. But other than that…oh god I totally just made a huge assumption, I mean the sex was awesome for _me_ but maybe you hated it, and that’s totally ok I mean it would suck because I’ve never felt anything like that before but if you never want to do it again I’m totally cool with that…’

‘Felicity. I didn’t hate it. It was…I didn’t hate it.’

Ok then.

Not exactly a glowing review.

He must have been able to see the disappointment on her face.

‘What I mean is, you’re right. We’re very…compatible. Sexually. I feel like I should tell you…I’m not usually like that. I mean I _am,_ but I normally hold back with the uh, the forcefulness and…such’.

She’s kind of shocked he’s actually talking to her about it. She fully expected him to pull his strong and silent routine and walk away without her knowing anything about what was going on in his head.

‘I apologize if anything I did was too much. I didn’t back off because, well, it seemed like you were enjoying…everything’ he smiles slightly to himself and she can almost see the images floating around in his head.

‘Oliver…you have nothing to apologize for. You were…perfect’ she sighs and she doesn’t even care how pathetic she sounds. It was an experience she’ll never forget and she thinks he deserves to know that.

She can tell she’s made him uncomfortable so she gives him a small smile and turns to find her clothes cause _oh yea_ she’s still naked as the day she was born.

Before she can pull her dress over her head Oliver is standing _very_ close to her and grabbing her wrists (and what the _fuck_ is this obsession with her wrists?), pulling them and the dress down to her sides.

‘Wait…I want to look at you. Once more’. Well she can’t argue with that. She herself was pretty disappointed when he pulled his boxers back on while she was rambling about condoms earlier.

So she stands there and lets Oliver Queen run his eyes and then his hands over her naked body.

He doesn’t have the look in his eyes that she’d expect a guy to have when looking at the naked body of the girl he just banged on the desk of a crime fighting lair. The look on his face is…intent. Like he’s studying her. It makes her much more uncomfortable than she likes.

Once again he seems to read her mind (which, _scary._ No one should be exposed to what goes on in there) and reaches down to grab the dress from her hands. He lifts it over her head, turns her around so her back is to him, and does up the zipper.

‘ _thank you’_ he whispers and she thinks she’ll be thinking about the way his lips brush her ear and the way his breath feels on her neck for a long… _long_ time.

After he walks away she puts her hair back in her sensible ponytail.

‘So about what we were talking about before…we’re on the same page? Chalk it up to hormones and good sex and…all that, right? Just sex?’

He’s studying her again and she thinks there’s no way he doesn’t see right through her and her bullshit ‘just sex’ thing.

But instead of calling her out he nods his head. ‘Absolutely. We are definitely on the same page. I’ll see you at the office tomorrow. I have a meeting at 7:30 and I’d prefer if you were there for it. After that we can work on salvaging whatever we can from what happened tonight’.

She’s confused for a moment by what exactly he means by ‘salvage’…salvage their friendship? She guesses it makes sense, sex can really screw everything up.

It takes her awhile but it finally clicks that he’s talking about the failed mission. Back to business then. She’s relieved at first but then she’s a little disappointed that he can move on so easily from an experience that’s sure to rock her for the foreseeable future. In fact she’s more than disappointed, she’s fucking _sad._ Which makes no sense cause she’s the one who pushed the ‘just sex’ no strings attached thing, it was only natural for Oliver to agree and then proceed with business as usual.

She still wants to cry, though.

But she doesn’t. Instead she says:

‘Of course. I’ll see you in the morning’ and starts walking towards the door.

She stops in her tracks when she remembers her _other_ plans for the next day. Paul had asked her to lunch. She had accepted.

She turns and finds Oliver buckling his belt.

‘Oliver…one last thing’. She pauses and Oliver motions for her to get on with it.

‘Well um, Paul…Paul asked me to lunch tomorrow. I told him I’d go but that was…well before…you know’

‘Before you came back here and we had sex. Yea, I know’. She forgets that he can be honest too sometimes. So much of his life is wrapped up in lies.

‘Right. Well I was just wondering…if you don’t want me to go. Not that I need your permission. Of course I don’t. I just…want to know what you think, I guess’.

He stares at her, face blank, and she hates when he does that, hates it so much.

After a few seconds, he tells her she should go. He also tells her Paul is a good guy and that he’s ‘glad’ they’re spending time together. Felicity scoffs internally at that because she cannot remember the last time Oliver Queen was glad about anything (other than your standard ‘I’m glad you’re ok’ after the ever increasing near death experiences she and Digg have had over the last months).

Felicity cries as soon as she gets to her car.

She spends the next few hours listening to The Civil Wars, alternating between smiling like an idiot and crying, and re-living every second of The-Oliver-Experience.  She gives herself one night to both enjoy and wallow in the fact that she just had mind blowing sex with the guy she’s been crushing on (and for the last few months, much more than that) since the day she met him.

The next day she walks into the office at 7 am sharp. She wears a dress with a longer skirt than all her others. Her hair is in a ponytail. Glasses perched on her face.

Oliver is already schmoozing the man he will be meeting with soon and when Felicity walks in she tries not be disappointed that he barely looks her way as she makes her way to her section of office.

‘Ms. Smoak?’ he stops her before she rounds the corner.

‘Yes, Mr. Queen?’

‘Would you get a cup of coffee for our guest? And one for myself as well’.

She narrows her eyes at him. He hasn’t asked her that question in months. But then…she realizes what he’s doing. Drawing the lines. Compartmentalizing. Making it clear the roles they’re playing.

‘Of course, Mr. Queen. Cream and sugar?’


	2. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver Queen is calculated. It’s a by-product of 5 years on the island where a miscalculation would have left him dead. Every decision he makes is carefully calculated and all the pros and cons are weighed.
> 
> Take Felicity Smoak, for example.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the first half of this is Oliver's pov of the first chapter. The second half is The Second Time. Thanks so much for all the comments, hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Oliver Queen is calculated. It’s a by-product of 5 years on the island where a miscalculation would have left him dead. Every decision he makes is carefully calculated and all the pros and cons are weighed.

Take Felicity Smoak, for example.

He had decided she would find out about how he spent his nights long before he appeared in the backseat of her car with a gunshot wound. 

He hadn’t necessarily planned out the way he ended up telling her, but he would have never gone to her if he hadn’t already decided she would know his secret, if he hadn’t already followed her for weeks, seen who she spent her time with, what movies she rented at redbox, her favorite restaurants. 

He’s aware that she could have easily walked right out the door and never looked back when he asked her to help him and Digg (the thought that she would go to the police left his mind as soon as it entered it. He could easily see that she was trust worthy and would understand what he did and why). It was a risk, but it was a calculated risk because he knew a lot about Felicity Smoak.

He knew her life was predictable. He also knew she wasn’t a predictable person (she rents everything from Scooby doo to gruesome horror flicks from redbox and she chooses a different ethnic restaurant every night he follows her).

He knew she liked Walter. He knew when she liked someone, she was loyal to them (he sees her with exactly two friends over the course of his research. He does a little digging…facebook stalking. Whatever. He finds out that both women are friends Felicity has had since childhood).

He knew she was attracted to him.

And this is where he feels like kind of a raging asshole. Well he knows he’s an asshole, but he rarely feels guilty about it. Felicity has a habit of making him feel guilty about things he normally doesn’t.

So yes he’s an asshole for using the fact that she was attracted to him and would possibly be swayed to do things she wouldn’t normally do because of said attraction.

In the end it was her choice. He can’t help it if his calculations were correct.

 

Felicity becoming his Executive Assistant was also calculated. This calculation was directly related to the first calculation. 

He feels extremely responsible for her, for her decision to join his crusade. 

He feels guilty for putting her in danger and he’s not the type to sit idle and feel sorry for himself. 

So he takes action. 

Felicity becoming his EA was about a lot more than just the ability to talk to her about how they spend their nights. It started out that way, yes, but as time went on he realized the benefits of the situation.

Felicity becoming his EA was more about how she spent her days. He didn’t like her being 18 floors down with no one who knew anything about her life or what she was really doing with it. He hated not knowing where she spent her lunches. He didn’t enjoy not knowing what time she came to and left work, didn’t like that hour window between 7-8 and 5-6 that he didn’t know if she was in her cubicle, on the streets and subways, or at home. If she was attacked or taken by one of his enemies, he probably wouldn’t even find out until it was too late.

As his EA, she spent her days 100 feet away from him in a glass enclosed office. He knew the moment she arrived and he knew the moment she left every day. He was able to ask about her lunch plans without sounding like a controlling stalker. 

Yes, she was brilliant and capable of so much more than escorting business men and women in and out of his office and making sure he was on time to all of his appointments. He was trying his best to make sure she knew how much he valued her intelligence and what she had to offer the company. He had even given up on the coffee thing (she refused to even push the ‘power’ button for him on the Keurig she had bought him for his birthday).

He felt a pang of regret every time he saw her sitting at her desk looking bored as hell.

But he needed her. And not just for IT work.

He needed her safe. He has no problem admitting it to himself. 

And for a while, he was happy with his decision. Felicity still got in trouble, but he was able to save her every time. 

However there was one factor he hadn’t included in his calculations. He hadn’t been able to predict it, and it was definitely far from in his control.

Paul Whitman.

He was a nice enough guy. Smart. Good business man. Oliver didn’t find him particularly amusing or witty, but Felicity sure seemed to think he was funny. 

And this is where the whole 100 feet away at all times, glass encased office thing backfires on him. 

He watches Whitman and Felicity make eye contact and then do that look away, smile, look back thing constantly. He watches Whitman linger at Felicity’s desk when he’s supposed to be discussing the next day’s schedule with her.

He watches him step closer to Felicity, nervously rub the back of his neck, and ask Felicity out to dinner.

He watches Felicity smile like he’s not sure he’s ever seen her smile before. It’s the smile of a girl who feels good about herself, a girl who feels pretty and smart and funny and desire-able. Felicity is all those things and he knows he should be happy that Whitman makes her feel this way, but it still makes his fist clench when he thinks about it.

 

He can admit (to himself) that he would like to make her feel that way. However it’s not an option he can consider and he’s pretty sure she knows that as well after what happened in Russia (or more specifically, what happened when they got back from Russia)

But he’s pretty sure there are other ways he can make her feel that _Paul_ can’t. 

As it gets closer to the day of Felicity and Paul’s date he is more and more bothered by the fact that she refuses to talk to him about Paul. In fact the only reason he knows when her date is, is because it’s the only night she’s asked off and she has been tied up every lunch with vigilante work (very important vigilante work. Nothing that could have waited til the evenings. Definitely not).

Felicity is basically an open book. He…really enjoys that about her. There’s never any questioning what she’s thinking. It bothers him more than it should that there’s something she doesn’t open up to him about, doesn’t trust him with. 

So when she leaves the office that Friday night 30 minutes early ‘to get ready’ he’s pretty sure he’s going to be distracted all night.

When he suggested to Digg earlier that day that they steal one of Felicity’s bugs and put it on her, Digg laughs harder than he’s ever seen the man laugh, then he puts his hand on Oliver’s shoulder and tells him ‘it’ll get better, man’ which doesn’t make sense at all. Oliver chooses to pretend the whole exchange never happened (but he still thinks a bug would be a good idea. Things aren’t stable in Starling City yet, he’d like to know where she is going to be). 

The mission he and Digg are on that night is routine, but something goes wrong. As he tells Felicity the story later, he leaves out a few details. True, he didn’t get the intel from Digg in time. But really Oliver was distracted with thoughts of Felicity and Paul and everything that could go wrong, and how he wouldn’t be able to save her this time because he had no idea where the fuck she was. So he could have helped Digg out more, he could have been faster. But he wasn’t all there, mentally, and it cost an innocent man his life.

As he sits in the lair waiting for Felicity to come back from her date (he knows she’ll come back, he had watched her set up a surveillance on her lunch break and there’s no way she’ll wait til the next day to check it) he goes over what he’s about to say. He has a speech all planned out. He’s going to tell her that while he respects her independence he is not comfortable with her being out of reach for so long. He won’t mention that he had tried and failed to track her phone (but at some point he will definitely be looking into how she did that and making sure her phone is restored to it’s normal, track-able state).  
She’ll roll her eyes and argue but he’ll insist and he’ll tell her it’s for her safety and that losing her is not an option. She’ll sigh and the way she looks at him will make him wish he wasn’t Oliver Queen, CEO by day and Arrow, Vigilante of Starling City by night. Then he’ll look away from her because he _can’t go there_ and ask her whether she’d prefer the comm in her purse or her ear on her next date (the phrase ‘next date’ will be said through clenched teeth which she won’t see because he has strategically, calculatedly, turned away from her). 

Things don’t exactly go the way he had planned. 

The minute he sees her he already knows his plan won’t be followed through on. He tries desperately to calculate what his next move will be but the Felicity standing in front of him isn’t fitting in any of his equations. 

Sure he’s seen her dressed up before, but that was always for missions where she was either playing a part or just trying to fit in with the billionaires he spent his weekends with. 

Tonight she’s dressed as herself, on a date. He’s not sure how to explain it. She just looks…different than she’s ever looked before, and yet the same. It’s not just the clothes she’s wearing or the way her hair is curled or her smoky eye makeup…it’s the intention behind it. She’s dressed for Paul, dressed up because she wanted to look pretty for him. 

He’s getting good at admitting things (to himself) but he’s not quite ready to see her like this, to see this other Felicity that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know this side of her, the Felicity who puts on a light pink dress that’s a perfect blend of innocent femininity and sexy and goes on a date. 

He starts talking and he’s not sure what he’s even saying. He hadn’t planned on talking to her like this, he kind of hates himself for it. 

And then she’s rambling about bubble baths and the two Felicity’s are colliding and _fuck_. 

He wants her like this, so bad. His brilliant, hilarious, snarky, strong IT girl combined with Paul’s beautiful, feminine, sexy date. 

He admits a lot of things that night, and not just to himself. 

He tells Felicity he needs her. He tells her how bad he wants her. 

He shows her how deep the controlling and dominant tendencies he has really go. 

It doesn’t scare her (If she had shown any sign of being overwhelmed or at all uncomfortable at how…intense he was sexually, he would have stopped immediately. It wouldn’t be the first time).

In fact, he’s pretty sure it turns her on. 

She gets wet almost instantly when he holds her wrists behind her back. 

She clamps down on him and comes harder than he’s ever felt a woman come when he pulls her hair a little bit and tells her to look at him.

The way her eyes darken when he tells her what to do makes him wish…well it makes him wish for things he’ll never have. 

Fucking Felicity is the first un-calculated thing he’s done since he got back from the island. Every time he has sex he goes through the same calculated, pro and con weighing, deliberate routine. Laurel, Isabel, all of them. But not tonight.

When Felicity tells him about her plans for a second date with Paul, he thinks he has a chance to take control back of this situation. He knows she won’t go if he tells her not to. He could still salvage his plan from earlier. He’ll still have to deal with the consequences of having sex with Felicity, but if he can get her to stop seeing Paul everything will be back to normal, or at least closer to normal. 

But then he has a flash of Felicity sitting at her desk up in his office, playing solitaire, bored and stuck. Another flash, this time of Felicity on the floor surrounded by the glass from the window she just jumped through with him. Her face when he pried into Barry Allen’s life. 

Does he really want that for her forever? Is that who he wants to be to her? To be the guy who she’ll look back on as the guy who ruined her life and made her miserable at every turn? 

He tells her to go. 

Then, because apparently word vomit is contagious, he tells her he thinks Paul is a great guy and that he’s ‘happy they’re spending time together’. 

It’s the first time he’s lied to Felicity in…a long time. 

The next morning he feels the need to make a point. He knows that she’s not as unaffected as she put on last night when she was babbling about how it was ‘just sex’ and hormones. He’s decide it won’t happen again and that she will be with Paul. She deserves something good in her life, not Oliver taking advantage of her. He needs to communicate that to her without actually using words because neither of them are ready to bring what happened up.

So even though he’s perfectly capable of firing up the Keurig and making coffee for himself and the investor he’s meeting with in less than 5 minutes, he asks her to get him coffee. 

She does. 

_2 months later_

He’s almost positive he’s obsessed with her. 

He should have seen it earlier, he supposes, what with the whole manipulating her into taking a job she never wanted because he didn’t like not knowing where she was a few hours in the day. 

Fucking her only made it worse. 

He has always gotten very little sleep, but now he gets even less. He waits til he’s alone to give in to the memories and fantasies that seem to be never ending. Lately he’s been making a mental list of all the things they didn’t do in their 20 minutes of temporary insanity.

The one he’s currently fixated on is the fact that she never sucked his dick.

Every time she’s within reaching distance he has to stop himself from fixating on her lips. It’s worse when she’s talking to him, which isn’t so much a problem since she does everything she can to avoid that particular activity. 

She has a beautiful mouth. 

She bites her lip a lot. He never noticed before and now he wishes he never had.

While he’s patrolling one night she mentions to Digg over comm that she has very good control of her gag reflex (why she dropped this little tidbit, he can’t remember) and he fell. Literally tripped over himself as he was simply walking.

Another new hobby he’s picked up: watching Felicity’s face when Paul sends her flowers, or comes up to the office to surprise her at lunch (Felicity had made a new rule: no Arrow business at lunch). He comes up with scenarios while he watches them. For example yesterday Paul had picked Felicity up from work and come up to her office to get her. They hugged for what seemed like forever. As they were hugging he imagined Paul proposing. Felicity’s ring would be small, but beautiful. Probably only one diamond because Felicity is very conscious of money spent on frivolous things (and she would definitely consider an engagement ring frivolous). 

Once when Paul sent her flowers and Felicity spent about 30 minutes arranging and rearranging them. Oliver imagined it was her bridal bouquet. Paul wasn’t in this one, just her, in a beautiful white dress holding a bouquet of bright, Felicity-like multi-colored flowers.

He sees them kiss in front of QC one day as he’s coming back from lunch and he imagines them with kids. Paul is a great dad who always makes enough time for his family. Felicity gives her daughter computer parts instead of baby toys. She lets them stay up past bed time on the rare night Paul has to stay late at the office. 

He never sees himself in these flashes of her future life.

But when he imagines her at night, he’s always the one she’s with. 

 

As for Felicity, she acts extremely unaffected. Most of the time.

He sees her looking at him. When he’s working out and thinks he’s not paying attention, mostly. 

The change in the way she looks at him both exhilarates and depresses him.

She used to watch him work out very openly. Every time he caught her she gave him a sweet smile and turned around in her computer chair with a bounce. It was adorable (And he didn’t find many things adorable. In fact, that word was pretty much solely used for Things Felicity Smoak Does in his vocabulary). There was something exciting and endearing about it. 

Now, she watches him with the look of someone who knows exactly what she wants. He knows she’s thinking about when she raked her nails over his torso. She’s probably thinking about how tightly she held onto his back, how she kissed her way down his chest all the way to his belt buckle (he had stopped her. He wanted to make her feel good first. They never got back around to where she was headed, hence his new obsession with her pretty, pretty mouth). 

The way she watches him now as opposed to the way she used to watch him is really the perfect symbol of how their whole relationship has changed. 

Gone are the what-ifs, the hesitant curiosity.

They now both know exactly what it is they’re missing. 

They came to an understanding when he asked her to get him coffee, though, so they have to get used to missing it.

The coffee thing becomes like a code between them. When he stares at her too long she says ‘would you like some coffee, Mr. Queen?’ 

When she puts her hand on his shoulder as she’s sharing an anecdote with one of the many investors Oliver meets with he clears his throat; ‘Ms. Smoak, would you mind getting Mr. Williams and I a cup of coffee, please?’.

Once, she offered him a cup of coffee down in the foundry when he got back from a particularly dangerous mission and immediately started walking towards her with purpose in his steps. He swears he would have kissed her if she hadn’t blurted out ‘Coffee! I’ll go get you some coffee…from starbucks. Because we don’t have a coffee maker. Which by the way _She continued on but he was so thrown by what he had been about to do that he couldn’t process her extremely complicated reasonings for why they should have a coffee maker (still, he bought another Keurig for the foundry the next day. Felicity squealed and almost hugged him before stopping and whispering ‘coffee…thank you, Oliver’). Diggle was incredibly confused by the whole situation but as usual he just shook his head and laughed._

 

So, they had a system. He had made his calculations and decided that Felicity being with Paul and he being…Oliver Queen, CEO by day and vigilante by night was the best option for continued success and happiness for all.

Once again, though, his calculations don’t quite add up and he ends up scrambling to make sense of everything.

When Felicity arrives at his office on a Monday, her heels are clacking a little more vigorously than normal, her jaw is clenched, and she looks…well she looks like she’s been crying. He hates the pang of…something he feels in his chest. 

She walks around like that all day, except somewhere around lunch the mood changes from anger to sadness. She catches him watching her while he’s making a cup of coffee at the Keurig and that turns her mood right back around to anger. 

He tries not to ask questions or in general do anything that would make her offer him coffee. He’ll ask Digg about it later, because Digg is capable of maintaining a female friendship without completely fucking it up. 

Digg is reluctant to tell him. He gets it. Felicity is pretty much Digg’s favorite person on the planet. When you care about someone that much, it’s hard to give up their secrets (which, by the way, is how he finally got over the whole Barry Allen thing. Felicity tearfully explained to him what a hard decision it was for her. After that he realized how much she must care about him, and he never brought it up again).

Digg finally gave in, muttering something about the greater good. 

‘Paul broke up with her’. 

Oliver wasn’t expecting that. A fight, yea he had assumed. But a breakup? It made no sense.

‘Why?’ Diggle laughed at Oliver’s befuddled question and when Oliver turned to him Diggle raised his arms and shook his head.

‘Nope. That’s all you’re getting out of me. You’ll have to ask her about the rest’.

An hour later Oliver found himself standing in front of Felicity’s apartment building (he had tried to talk himself out of going. Didn’t work).

She answered the door wearing short but loose fitting pajama shorts, a tank top, and fuzzy bunny slippers. Her hair is in one of those knots on top of her head and he’s almost positive she’s not wearing make-up.

She’s so fucking beautiful. That’s about the only thing his mind can process right now. Which means he’s standing there staring at her like an idiot (it’s not the first time).

She was between bites of a New York sized slice of pizza when she answered the door. When she saw it was him she merely rolled her eyes, took a bite of pizza, and walked away.

She hadn’t shut the door in his face, though, so he took that as a good sign and walked in. 

 

It occurs to him that he’s never seen the inside of her apartment. He spent lots of time outside it, in the early days, and a few times over the last few months when he thought she might be in danger but couldn’t talk to her about it. 

‘How the hell did you know where I live!’ He hears from the kitchen. She appears in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, pointing a piece of pizza at him

‘Diggle didn’t tell you did he?’ It occurred to him at that moment that she wasn’t aware he had ever even been to his apartment. 

‘Felicity’. He’s speaking in a condescending tone, because he’s an asshole. ‘Did you really think I didn’t have your address?’

‘ooooook creepy’. She rolls her eyes and disappears into the kitchen again. 

He makes his way to the doorway and watches her shuffle through her fridge for something.

‘aha!’ she exclaims as she pulls out a carton of orange juice. Orange juice with pizza? Very _Felicity_

The domesticity of being in her kitchen, with her dressed like that, is clearly affecting his judgment because next thing he knows he’s right behind her and putting his hands on her hips. She must have heard him coming though, because she doesn’t jump.

‘I’ve been expecting you all night. Digg lasted longer than I thought he would’.

He smiles slightly at that.

‘Don’t be mad at him. If it makes you feel any better he didn’t tell me why’

She turns around at that and his breath hitches in his throat at the same moment he feels her sharp intake of breath. She hadn’t realized how close he was standing, obviously.

‘Well are you going to ask me?’ he was planning on asking her, but standing here in Felicity’s kitchen with his hands on her hips and her face inches away from his…well he doesn’t really care anymore.

He kisses her.

His hands are threading through hers and he immediately finds her pulse with his and finally. He hasn’t figured out why feeling her heart beat makes him feel the way it does, but he hasn’t done it in months and it feels like coming home.

He doesn’t stop kissing her because last time he didn’t kiss her nearly enough and he’s spent a lot of time regretting that. 

He kisses her until she pulls away to breathe, throwing her head back. He immediately starts kissing her neck, desperate for contact with any part of her body he has access to.

When she puts her hands on his face and pulls him up to face her, he just knows she’s about to stop everything and tell him to go and tomorrow they’ll be at the office and he’ll try to talk to her, but she’ll ask him if he wants a cup of coffee. 

‘Oliver’ she’s whispering but he feels like her voice goes past his ears and into his bloodstream. Felicity saying his name like that is not something he thought he’d ever get to hear again. 

They look at each other for what seems like forever, her hands on his face and his hands over hers.

When she backs up and sits on her kitchen table and spreads her legs, still wearing her shorts, tank top, and fuzzy slippers. He starts imagining again, only this time he’s her husband, and it’s their kitchen table. She’s just warmed up his dinner because he got in late from the office again (even in his imagination he can’t help but be realistic). She asks him about his day but he would rather talk about hers, so she tells him about all the brilliant things she did that day at the research lab and she’s so goddamn happy that he can’t help but kiss the smile on her face, which only results in a bigger smile. 

He’s brought out of his imaginings by Felicity’s voice.

‘Oliver?’ She has a look on her face that he can’t quite decipher, unsure maybe?

‘Yes?’

‘Last time…the first time…you know. You told me what to do’. He stares at her, hoping to god she’s not about to go off on him.

‘I liked it. I…haven’t stopped thinking about it, actually. Will you do it again?’

He’s surprised but he doesn’t let that stop him from slowly walking over to her until he’s standing between her legs.

‘Take your shirt off’ She immediately complies. She starts to take her hair down but he stops her. ‘Leave it. Leave everything else the way it is’.

She looks at him, waiting for him to tell her what to do next. Before, she said they were perfect for each other…sexually. He’s beginning to see why she said that. 

‘I want your mouth on me’ her eyes darken and she bites her lip. He forces himself to look away because he needs to actually last long enough for her to do the thing he wants her to do.

Before he can prepare himself for what’s about to happen, she’s on her knees and unbuckling his belt. 

The first time he feels her tongue run up the length of his cock he lets out a guttural groan and slaps his hands onto the table she had been sitting on just moments earlier. 

He looks down and immediately looks back up because it’s _too much_. She’s on her knees for him, gorgeous breasts bare to his view, looking up at him with those big eyes, and his cock is in her mouth. Mind blowing. So much better than anything he imagined.

When she’s taken him to the very edge at least 3 times he can’t take it anymore. He gently pulls on her hair to let her know to stand up. His lips are on hers the moment they’re in reach. He decides he doesn’t want to stop kissing her the rest of the night.

‘I want to be able to kiss you at any time, No matter what position we’re in I want your lips close to mine, understand?’ Felicity nods. 

She follows through.

When he sits her back on the table she puts her arms around his neck and holds on tight with her nose pressed to his as he fucks her agonizingly slowly. He kisses her for what seems like minutes at a time and when he’s not kissing her his lips are still touching hers just barely and he can feel the breath escaping her as she gets closer and closer to her climax. As soon as she’s on the edge he pulls out of her, silencing her cry of disapproval with his lips. 

‘Not yet. I want you to come on my mouth’.

It’s his turn to kneel in front of her now. He remembers from The First Time how much she likes the combination of penetration and clitoral stimulation, so he puts one finger inside her, then two, as his tongue presses against her clit in a steady rhythym. When she’s about to come she seems to lose control of her legs and in order to avoid a kick to the face and a broken wrist he ends up with his back on the floor while Felicity squirms around on his face, hands braced behind her on his chest. 

Feeling her clench and spasm on his tongue is worth the near death experience. 

After that she’s boneless for a few seconds and he takes a moment to look at her. She’s completely naked and her hair has fallen out of the knot thing, several blonde strands falling around her face. He thinks this is the moment he’ll take to his grave. He’s not sure how many other people have seen her like this, but he’s sure that no one else feels the way about her that he does. No one else knows her like he does. No one else can appreciate the beauty of this moment like he does. 

No one else loves her like he does (yea, he can admit it. To himself. Because to admit it to anyone else would mean bad things for Felicity and he never, ever wants anything bad to happen to this woman). 

She’s laughing now and saying something about how she’s never come from _that_ before and he can’t help the proud smirk that crosses his face.

_No one can make her come like he does._

That thought makes him desperate to make her come again. He tells her to get on his lap. She bites her lip as she does it, but not in a sexy way. It’s her worried lip bite.

He places a hand on her face. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Oh nothing’ she says quickly. ‘I just…this position has never been my favorite. I just don’t think I’m…good at it. With the grinding and the hips and just…yea’.

He runs his index finger down her body to her clit.

‘Maybe we can work together, then’. She smiles at that and nods and then he’s inside her again. Fuck. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to how good she feels. 

He finds the angle that makes it easiest for her to move her hips and leans back on his elbows, watching her ride him. Her breasts are bouncing slightly. Her hair is completely out of the ponytail now and it falls around her face and down her shoulders perfectly. 

For someone who basically said she’s not good at riding dick she sure seems to be enjoying it. Looks damn good doing it too. She gasps his name when he sits up and pulls her closer towards him, making it so they’re chest-to-chest. Her head is thrown back, mouth formed into an O. He wants to see her.

‘Felicity, eyes’. She responds immediately, looking at him and smiling the most heartbreakingly wide smile. He kisses her again and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to kiss a woman as much as he wants to kiss Felicity. Perhaps that’s why he had refrained from kissing her that first time. He knew once he started he’d never want to stop.

When they pull away to breathe she bites her lip again, this time out of pleasure. Drives him crazy. 

He finds her clit again and starts rubbing in time with her grinding. She screams out and it’s the first time he hears her scream out of pleasure (he like that much better than when she screams out of fear for him or for herself). 

In a single swift move she’s on her back and he’s on his knees, thrusting inside her erratically, right hand still rubbing her clit while his left braces on her hip. 

She explodes around him and he knows he can’t make it much longer. 

He looks down and sees her looking at him with an unreadable expression. She lifts a finger and traces his jawline and smiles. That’s all it takes.

He pulls out at the last second and comes all over her stomach. He never replaced that condom he had used with Felicity the first time (he hadn’t needed to use one since then and he definitely wasn’t expecting this to happen tonight).

He immediately pulls her to him for a long, languid kiss, then she’s lying on his chest, on her kitchen floor, naked except for a pair of bunny slippers. He knows he doesn’t deserve this but he can’t bring himself to care at that moment. 

‘So, can I get you a cup of coffee?’

He laughs, an honest to god audible laugh. She sits up and actually squeals.

‘Oh my GOD I just made Oliver freaking Queen laugh! Audibly!’ She’s clapping and fist pumping and generally being adorable and he can’t stop smiling.

 

The second time they have sex is after the first time he walks into Felicity’s apartment. It won’t be the last, on either count.


End file.
